AN: Small bunch this time around!
One (Machias)
He stared at the numbers, his expression unreadable, though the clenching of his fists were more than enough to tell the tale. He'd been so, so close, but as the old saying went; life wasn't a game of horseshoes. Sometimes close simply didn't pass muster.
It truly was remarkable how the gap between two competitors could be so decisive yet so small; the difference between first and second, the difference between winner and loser, the difference between champion and also-ran.
The difference between 99 and 100.
His eyes narrowing, he searched for the name.
Emma Millstein.
Machias would remember that.
Think of me (Rean/Alisa)
"So that's where yours went!"
"Did you not know? I've been keeping it in my room this whole time," Rean replied, smiling in fond remembrance as he ran his fingers along the glove's torn, beaten leather. "I mean, I wasn't about to throw it out, so…"
"Hmph. Sure glad you didn't. I put a lot of thought into that gift, y'know. Just ask Machias and Gaius."
His eyes turned soft.
"I know you did," he murmured, pulling her close. "And every time I wore it, I always thought of you."
"… Ugh. You're never gonna play fair, are you?"
"Nope."
Drill (Linde, Clara, Gaius)
"Y-You're going to sculpt something out of that?" Linde yelped, staring at the giant chunk of stone that sat in the Art Club room; how anyone managed to get it in there, Gaius would never know.
"No, I had it brought in for fun," came Clara's toneless rejoinder, methodically tapping the rock as she spoke.
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Will your tools even be able to – "
He went silent when Clara reached behind the desk and pulled out an absolutely massive orbal drill, pointedly ignoring how it made Linde go absolutely pale.
"Earplugs are over there. Knock yourselves out."